The Viterals
by jobicusmaximus
Summary: Zakana Hayline despises Pokemon with every fiber of his being because of the tragic event that happened days before he was meant to embark on his Pokemon journey. Now 18, when "the Viterals,"- the mysterious organization targeting the Haylines, kidnap Zakana's father and cousin, will Zakana answer the call? Will he team up with the things he so despises in order to save his family?
1. Chapter 1 Pokeball Go!

**Chapter One**

 **Pokeball, Go!**

Zakana was sitting in a familiar place when the first wave of bad news came. On the cliffs near the back of his house, he scanned the deep-blue ocean that stretched across a fire lit horizon. A sprightly mist floated before him as he watched the dumb, pink creatures below. They moved so slowly, so dopily. He couldn't understand why anyone would want to obtain one.

The winter winds whipped at his half-covered face. His dark brown hair fell across his exposed head and ears. He pulled his scarf up higher and breathed into it, tasting a hint of fresh lavender in the cotton.

There weren't many places that Zakana could think about nothing and forget everything around him, but his spot at the cliff was one such place. Maybe it was the dopey pink things glued to the rocks. Maybe it was that it was so peaceful and loud in a distant roaring sort of way that made Zakana forget. He always tried to find ways to forget, but it never lasted long.

The sound of hooves galloped toward him and pulled him from his trance. Jindo never ran that fast unless he needed to. Subconsciously, Zakana stood up and faced the oncoming noise, a dull pounding against the deadened earth. Zakana avoided Jindo and Jindo avoided Zakana. They knew where each other stood, always on opposite sides of the fence. A flash of orange-red fire pulsated toward Zakana, melted the frost in its path. Jindo kept its neck on a swivel, plowed onward, its chariot flames dancing around it like wildfire. Now, this yellow-white fire-maned freak bee lined for Zakana, which could only mean one thing.

"Where's my mother?" Zakana asked, detecting the defensiveness in his own voice.

Jindo reared up, his mane and tail made of fire shimmering in the morning sun. He neighed loudly, and said the same thing he always said: "Ponyta," before returning to all fours.

Jindo, Audria's horse Pokemon, rarely went anywhere without her, which made Zakana suddenly nervous. All he could do was repeat his question, which made Jindo more jumpy and scattered, bucking up wildly. Zakana got the feeling that Jindo wanted Zakana to ride him, which was a great leap of faith by the horse on both their parts.

"Where is she?" Zakana demanded.

He ran past Jindo, knowing that his mother had gone into Town Square. She was likely there to discuss safety issues with some of the more proactive adults in Pallet Town. Jindo kept pace with Zakana as they passed the house, the stable next to it. Jindo seemed to accept that the two could just run together.

But Zakana's worry was over nearly before it began. Down the frosty trail, Zakana could see his mother, her head down, as though it helped her run faster, her red boots stomping a footpath in front of her.

"Mom! Are you okay?" Zakana shouted ahead, looking at Jindo for reassurance.

Audria lifted her head, her expression changing from determination to fear. She had something to say, something important. She had sent Jindo to warn Zakana, and as she ran she shouted back, "Get in the house."

Eyeing Jindo suspiciously, Zakana flung the door open and obeyed. In the next instant, Audria revealed a Pokeball before entering her house and said, "Jindo, return!"

The horse Pokemon morphed and shrunk, its white and yellow hellish fires disappearing into an amorphous ball of white light, vacuumed into the ball in Audria's hand.

She slammed the door behind her, and sucked in a few heavy breaths before she was able to speak. Audria's town meetings didn't always end well, but they never ended like this. Zakana pulled a chair out from the kitchen table, thrust it in front of his mother.

"What's up, mom? What happened?"

"Oh, Zakana," she finally said. "We must be quick. Gather everything you're going to need. We have to leave Pallet. Now."

Her last word came demandingly. It wasn't her usual tone with Zakana where she would passively suggest things for the somewhat reclusive 18 year old to do. There was a steely edge to her voice that asserted urgency. Neglecting the chair in front of her, she moved to the cabinet under the kitchen sink, and removed a black backpack.

"Get moving!"

"Can you tell me what's going on first?" Zakana demanded just as firmly.

He had never seen his mother in such a huff, and it was beginning to unsettle him.

Badger-like, Audria rummaged through the refrigerator, sparing no expenses, casting things into her pack, severely, decisively. She spun around, a can of pickles in her left hand. "We're not safe here. Your cousin is in immediate danger and so is my sister. And yours too for that matter. If we stay here, we may be killed." Audria spun back around, badgered on and said, "I'll explain everything when I have time, but we don't have time now. Grab your stuff!"

At that moment, another one of Audria's Pokemon bounced down the staircase like a diapered baby and bumbled into the room, And Audria spoke to it as such. "We're going on a trip, Pips," she said, not looking at the blue penguin Pokemon Piplup. "I know it's been a long time since momma went on a Pokemon journey, but duty calls sweets. Get the others, and make it snappy. And by Jirachi, if you're still standing there when I turn around, Zakana—"

He flew up the stairs catlike, unable to process what was happening. He didn't want to leave home. His cousin, aunt, sister . . . in danger? What was his mom talking about? Zakana hated moving quickly, and his mind wasn't used to such rapid changes.

"Zakana! Hurry up!" his mom bellowed from below. She was a petite woman, but wiry as hell when she needed to be.

What kind of trip were they taking? Zakana was such a minimalist that all of his clothes fit into two drawers, all of his shoes into two boxes. Before long, he was packed, and with backpack slung across his shoulder he quickly descended the staircase. Removing the mess of brown hair out of his eyes, he gave his mother a cold, unblinking stare. She did not return it, but merely said, "Oh, Zakana, I'm sorry. I knew this would happen. How much money do you have?"

"Why? Aren't we coming back?"

"Pack your bag as though we are not," she said, rummaging through more cabinets and closets in the kitchen and connecting living room. "Zakana, there are too many things you need to know right now. And sadly there isn't enough time." Suddenly, Audria stopped reaching for the top shelf of the cabinet, rested on both feet and shouted, "Missy!"

The ghost Pokemon, Misdreavus appeared behind Audria, making a hissing sound as she did. Of all his mother's Pokemon, Zakana disliked Missy the most. He despised how she could appear and reappear at will, remain invisible, and listen to conversations. Well, all Pokemon could listen to conversations, but most Pokemon were stupid. Zakana felt that Missy had some senses about her, and he shivered when she looked at him, the dark on dark purple ringlets underneath her beady neon-pink eyes.

"Find everything you can that belongs to my husband that might be useful, Missy. Check the attic for anything. Grab my husband's papers. Bring down Pokeballs, Pokedexes, medicines, TMs, HMs, and anything else you can find. Be quick about it!"

Zakana couldn't help thinking how crazy his mother now looked, her auburn red hair sticking out from under her lopsided snowcap. He felt sorry for her, how alone she must feel, father never coming home except twice a year at best. Zakana was lonely too, but he was young. He was confident he would find a path for himself. But his mother . . . what was she but a glorified town council member, and a stay-at-home ex-Pokemon trainer?

"Mom," Zakana said, this time knowing that he would not accept diversions. "What . . . is . . . happening? Why is Kirish in danger?"

"In danger, Zakana, but not so much as us. They're coming here. They've already hit your aunt and uncle's home." Speaking about her sister seemed to snap Audria back to reality—this time warped reality that was taking place too quickly for Zakana to process. Audria's obsidian eyes flashed underneath her fluttering eyelashes. "Yumin has been kidnapped, Zakana."

"What?"

"They're asking for 10,000 Pokedollars for your cousin's ransom." Audria moved to the chair Zakana had pulled out and collapsed onto it. She puffed out her chest once before saying; "your Aunt Lydia was able to get the news to me today."

"There's no way we can afford that. And who is _they_?"

Audria's eyes averted, and for some unknown reason, Zakana thought suddenly of his father. "What about dad? Yumin and dad were working together, traveling together . . ."

Darkness overcame Audria as Missy reappeared in front of her, dropping a knapsack to the floor. "There is no news of dad," she trailed off.

Zakana thought about the last time he saw his father, about how frayed and wrinkled he looked. It was like he had had aged 10 years in the span of one. His father's smile looked as though it had been stitched in place the last time he had said goodbye.

Suddenly, Audria shot out of the chair, began sifting through the knapsack. "Good, they're in here. Your fathers papers," she added. Presently she looked up, into her son's eyes, like she had realized something for the first time. "Come outside with me, Zakana. We're going have to part ways soon. I want to tell you as much as I can before it's too late." Audria grabbed her own pack and the one Missy had just delivered and flew to the door.

"Mom. You're actually scaring me. I don't want to leave. I don't want to go out there."

Audria turned on a pin, her heel rotating all the way around before squaring up with her son. She gripped his arms and dragged him outside. The frost on the ground crunched beneath them. It was eerily quiet as Missy slinked out into the open air. Pips danced around Audria's ankles, repeating his own name over and over.

A crimson flame flashed across Audria's eyes. There was an insatiable passion behind them now, waking the sleeping dragon within. At that moment, Zakana feared his mother. He felt her insistence, her nails that dug into his forearms.

"I know you want to go to school for astronomy, Zakana. I know you love your workouts. I know how you feel about what happened all those years ago. It hasn't been easy for any of us!" Audria's grip tightened and she pulled her son closer, his neck on hers. She hugged him aggressively then flung him away. Hot tears were forming behind her furnace-lit eyes. She bit them back and said, "It's time to forget about all of that and make a new path." Thrusting the knapsack into Zakana's hands she said, "You need to meet up with your sister first, Zakana. You remember how to get there from here?" Get the papers inside of this bag to Kirish as soon as you can. I would take them but they're looking for me too. They'll never suspect you. In fact, they probably don't even know you exist."

"Mom!" Zakana snapped. "What are you talking about?" None of this makes sense to me."

Without giving a direct answer, Audria laid the back of her hand on Zakana's cheek and smiled—that sweet, watermelon-stained smile. "It doesn't make sense to you because you've chosen to remain blind, Zakana. And I understand why. I do. But I'm asking you to wake up now. There is no other choice." Audria withdrew a Pokeball from her own belt and said, "Go! Sweltinator!"

Her Pokeball landed ten feet from them and the amorphous white light burst from its depths. Seconds later, a dark blue bird Pokemon with a red breast stood in their presence. It flapped its wings wide and squawked, "Swellow!"

"I'm not working with Pokemon, Mom!" Zakana pleaded. "I'm not getting on that thing."

"Zakana!" Audria shouted, giving her son a sharp rap on the cheek. "Listen to yourself! You're eighteen years old but you sound like a child!"

Pips dashed inside at this disturbance while Missy continued to watch Audria and Zakana. Audria held out two separate Pokeballs and called Pips and Missy back to them.

Zakana put his hand to his cheek, and tried to find words. He couldn't believe she hit him. Slowly, he met her eyes, the fires still burning—like stars about to explode and die.

It was the first time Zakana's mom had hit him. He felt more than shocked. "Who are they, mom?" He demanded. "Who is looking for you?"

"The Viterals," Audria whispered, the very utterance of their name slithering off her tongue. "They have finally emerged from the shadows of their tunnels. And they're on the move." Audria turned again, gripped Swellow by the neck and mounted her abnormally large bird Pokemon. "The transmissions at Pokemon Centers have been severed. I can't get a hold of my Pokemon on reserve so I only have six. How many do you want and which ones?"

How many did he want? Zakana didn't want any and he didn't want to go see his sister.

"I'm going to need Sweltinator," she said referring to her Swellow, "and also probably Jindo. I have a lot more ground to cover if I'm going to get to your aunt and uncle in time. I can survive with just two if you want the other four?"

Zakana didn't want to be anywhere near Missy, and Pips was such a little wimp he wasn't sure what use it would be anyway. What were his mothers last two? Some dumb tree that never did anything but change the position of its branches and an overly fat electric mouse called Raichu.

"Hurry up Zakana. Make your choice."

"I don't want any of them!" Zakana finally said. "I'm not a Pokemon trainer, mom. I don't want anything to do with them!"

Audria shook her head. A single hot tear streaked down her freckled face, landed on the ice, froze. She wiped it away and took an honest look at her son. It wasn't malicious or angry. She merely studied him, her son that she had raised almost singlehandedly. This is what he had become. Finally, she smiled weakly and said, "There's an old Pokemon manual in there and some empty Pokeballs when you're ready. I know it's hard for you. I hope we see each other soon under safer circumstances. Then I'll be able to tell you more." Audria patted her Sweltinator on the neck as though she were talking to him more than her son and said, "I love you Zakana."

Zakana stood there alone as Sweltinator took off into the shattered gray atmosphere above. His mother's soft red hair whipped gracefully behind her as she flew away. The auburn hair, Sweltinator's tail feathers, the darkened sky—they were nothing but blurring images set against each other, and all fleeting. Everything was fleeting and Zakana was truly alone.

He shouted as loud as he could, his head tilted backwards. He could feel the veins in his neck pulsate. He felt a surge of anger and confusion he could not explain.

"You think I'm no good, mom?" I can catch a Pokemon just as easily as you can! They're stupid and ugly and I don't understand why they have to live so closely with humans!" Zakana dug into his pack and felt for a ball the size of his forefinger. He withdrew it and darted for the cliffs behind his house.

"I can be just as good as Kirish!"

"I can be the son . . ." he trailed off and blinked away the tears. His throat tightened.

The waves crashed against the cliff side, bashed at it from all sides. Zakana stood at the edge and stared at the dopey pink things. "Why won't you just move?" The waves just keep crashing on you, you dumb thing!" The pink things suctioned themselves to the rocks and stared in a single direction.

Zakana saw the way his mother had done it. He pressed the center button on the Pokeball to make it expand to the size of his hand. It was the first time he held a Pokeball since he was a child. He looked at the incomprehensibly foolish Pokemon below and said the thing he had heard before. It was the thing he'd never ever believe he would say himself.

"Pokeball! Go!"

Then he let the red and white ball fly from his hand.


	2. Chapter 2 Surprise Visitors

The Pokeball landed square in the pink things face. It opened, revealed an amorphous red light, and sucked the Pokemon inside vacuum like. Zakana had seen it too many times to count, on TV, when his mother did it, in his dreams. Somehow, throwing a Pokeball and watching it in real time felt different. There was an unmistakable thrill that came with the real life kind. The Pokeball landed on the rock, bounced there once. It rolled side to side, once, twice, three times, and finally the red light filling the center circle went out. Instantly, the Pokeball flew through the air, and returned to Zakana's outstretched hand.

It was easy—almost too easy. Zakana threw a Pokeball and he caught a Pokemon—his first ever Pokemon.

"I told you I could catch one, Mom!"

The anger welling up inside Zakana had not dissipated, and catching the pink thing made him even more confused than before. He had sworn never to catch one of them, never to partake in the world surrounding them, but here he was clutching his Pokeball, fiercely, as though he would never let it go. The winter winds whipped against the open parts of his face, reminded him where he was, what his mother had said. Quickly, he returned to his house.

"Kirish," he began. "Just go to Kirish and she will take care of it. Kirish is the answer always," Zakana said, mocking his mother's iron voice. It had been almost three years since he had seen his older sister, and he really had no burning desire to change that. Whereas Zakana avoided the Pokemon universe at all costs, Kirish threw herself into all its activities. She took the stereotypical Pokemon journey, left Pallet town at age ten, chose her starter, searched the planet to be the world's greatest Pokemon master, like so many before her. And for a while, she did pretty damn good. Of course she did. Kirish was perfect, and the only reason she hadn't made it was because she changed her focus from trainer to breeder.

"I just want to feel the love of Pokemon by helping them be happy and healthy," she would say.

Zakana couldn't forget it. It was so trite and annoyingly subtle that it came off to him as aggressive. That was the thing about Kirish. She was bitingly sarcastic, passive aggressive, and as stubborn as the weeds in the backyard. What was so important about getting the papers to her so quickly anyway?

The living room and kitchen were just two stops on Audria's path of destruction. All of the cabinets and closets opened, papers and packs on the floor reminded Zakana of the seriousness of his mother's words. She never made a mess, never left the house for more than a few days, and never ever took all her Pokemon with her. On other days, Zakana thought she left some behind just to get Zakana to spend time with them, but it never worked.

Zakana moved to the fridge, realized the Pokeball was still in his hand. It didn't squirm or shake anymore like it did when Zakana first threw it. It was still, the pink thing inside quietly waiting to be let out. It didn't look or seem dangerous. In fact, it looked like the dumbest Pokemon he had ever seen. Zakana suddenly grew curious. This wasn't his mother's creepy Misdreavous or bratty little Piplup. This Pokemon was different because it was Zakana's. Somewhat against his will, he smiled, tossed the ball to the floor, and said, "Pokeball, go!"

The same red light flooded out of the ball, formed the shape of the Pokemon, then went solid. From up close, Zakana noticed the Pokemon's four white claws and its long, white-tipped tail. The pink dopey thing, eyes slowly focusing, looked up at Zakana and with a slow, raspy voice said, "Slowpoke!"

"God, you even sound like an idiot!" Zakana looked at his Pokemon, his eyebrows raised.

Slowpoke cocked its head to the side, said, "Slowpoke," again.

"Yeah, I get it. You're called Slowpoke. Whatever god or goddess named you had it right. I'd like to shake their hand for their noble work."

Zakana rummaged through the pack his mother had given him, withdrew a red handheld device that opened like a book. He pointed the red bulb attached to the front of it at his Slowpoke.

The device clicked on, said in a mechanical voice, pausing rhythmically, "Slowpoke. The dopey Pokemon. Slowpoke takes time to respond to outside stimuli and is slow to notice its own pain."

"Oh. Just perfect. No wonder you were so easy to catch." Zakana sighed, turned away from Slowpoke, and opened his fridge. "My mom thinks she knows how I feel, but she doesn't. I can be just as good as Kirish or her or Yumin even. I've chosen this life on purpose. I don't want to partake. I don't even want this dumb Slowpoke." Suddenly, Zakana thought of returning it to the rocks he found it on. But not now. Food was more important now. Zakana removed some strawberry jam from the fridge, set in on the counter. He grabbed some bread, a knife, began making his sandwich.

Yumin crossed his mind. How could his cousin have been kidnapped, and what was going on with father? Zakana set down his knife, jammed the two pieces of bread together. He thought of his mother's words, her worried look, the slap on the face she had given him. She flew away and left him all alone. Maybe, after all this time, Zakana would need to join the world that his family was so deeply involved in.

Unlike Kirish, Zakana saw Yumin much more often. When his father came home, twice a year, Yumin usually came along. The two of them worked together, traveled together. In fact, Zakana wasn't exactly sure what his father and cousin did. He knew it involved Pokemon of course. Could they really make all their money by battling other trainers? Again, Zakana wondered what was so important about the papers he needed to take to Kirish.

He finished his sandwich, drank a glass of water. The pack that he had laid on the kitchen table called to him. How soon would he need to leave Pallet? Just how serious, how accurate was his mother about everything?

 _They probably don't even know you exist._

That was what Audria had said about the Viterals. The Viterals . . . who the heck were they, and what did they want with Zakana's family?

Zakana eyed his Slowpoke. "How am I supposed to get to Kirish, anyway? There's a ferry that goes out to those islands but that's on the other side of town. I guess we better start walking."

"Slowpoke!"

"Hey, I don't like it any more than you, but that's the way it has to go. Once I meet up with Kirish, I can give her the papers and find out what's going on. Maybe she'll even take you off my hands."

Zakana didn't recognize his own voice. He only left home to go to school and do his workouts, and now he was thinking of leaving Pallet. His mother's words rang in his head again.

 _It doesn't make sense to you because you've chosen to remain blind, Zakana. And I understand why. I do. But I'm asking you to wake up now. There is no other choice._

Zakana was good at school—he was smart, but even with all his intelligence his mother had said a thing like that. Had he really chosen to remain so blind? Was now the time to wake up?

The papers. Zakana thought of his father's papers, moved to the bag he took the Pokedex from, looked inside. He pulled out a folder, set it on the table. During his studies of astronomy, Zakana followed a system of math and logic to find his solutions, and he realized that this wouldn't be any different. He opened the folder, scanned it, felt how thin it was as he did.

Durin's papers weren't much to look at. There were only a few sheets there, unlike the giant stack Zakana had expected. He pulled out one sheet, examined it. The writing was tiny, almost illegible, just overly stylish scrawl on perfectly white paper. A symbol at the bottom left hand corner jumped out at him.

"This giant red 'R' . . . I feel like I've seen it before."

"Slowpoke!"

"I almost forgot about you," Zakana said turning to see his Pokemon still motionless on the floor, his tail hanging overhead.

Standing up, Zakana moved to one of the cupboards, pulled out a can of food. He sprinkled some of the soft brown Pokemon food near Slowpoke's face. It took some time for the Pokemon to realize there was food in front of it. And even when it did, it took another ten seconds for it to take the first bite.

"Are you unaware of hunger too?" Zakana studied his Slowpoke, watched its every move now. "Do some of your kin starve because you don't know when you're hungry? The only reason I caught you was to show my mom that I could, but now I'm starting to regret it."

If he ever did meet up with his mom again, what would she say if she saw Slowpoke? It wasn't any great accomplishment, catching one of those. They lived on the cliffs behind the house. They weren't rare, difficult to catch or special in any way. Zakana sighed, moved back to his place at the table. He tried to read the note but could only make out pieces of sentences.

 _The Pokemon you sent over . . . they are stronger in number and force . . . Team Rocket . . ._

And then at the very end, signed, _thank you,_ with the 'R' stamped on there. And then all at once it hit Zakana. He remembered where he'd seen the 'R' and what it meant.

 _Team Rocket._

From what it looked like, they were sending Durin a letter thanking him for something. Did that mean . . .?

Zakana shot out of his chair, performed the fastest movement he had all day. He stared down at the paper, then over at his Slowpoke.

"Team Rocket is notorious for causing problems within the Pokemon world. Does that mean . . . is Dad helping them? Is that why Yumin is in danger?"

Zakana pored over the document more, looked at the others, tried to find more clues, but they were mostly repeats of each other.

The wind outside picked up, howled against the roof. Clouds of charcoal gray rolled across the sky, blocked the sun from shining through the windows. Zakana became acutely aware of the rapid change in weather. He ran to the window, repeated his mother's words, and for one painful moment, he knew he had taken too long.

Upstairs a window shattered, spilled glass into one of the bedrooms above. What Zakana saw outside was nothing he could have ever imagined would show up in Pallet. It was too strange, too out of place to make any sense. But even still, the winds continued to howl, and the snow began to fall—first in flurries and then harder, mixed with freezing rain and ice to create a hailstorm . . . in Pallet though?

Zakana gathered his father's papers, thrust them in his bag, threw it over his shoulder.

"Slowpoke! I think it's time we get out of here!"

Zakana fumbled for his Pokeball, tried to return his Slowpoke to him, but something threw him off the course. Part of the house split asunder, ripped open right before Zakana's eyes. The edge of the house, crushed by a giant piece of lumber, crumbled to the side, threw Zakana through the room like a lifeless Pokedoll. He slammed against the fridge, felt the handle in his back.

"What the hell—!"

There it was. Or rather, there they were. Two of the biggest Pokemon Zakana had ever seen in real life. They were giant leafy, wooden snow creatures, with white and green fur and demonic red eyes, as though they were under some sort of spell. They both held pieces of lumber, trees that dragged in the snow behind them.

Clouds of hail, flurries and white dust swirled around their heads and bodies almost as though they had brought the storm with them. And in that moment, Zakana's mind made some quick connections. First—of course they had brought the storm with them. Second—everything Zakana's mother said was utterly and absolutely true, and third and finally, Zakana was suddenly very grateful he had caught his Slowpoke because it was the only thing standing between him and the abominable creatures before him.


	3. Chapter 3 Fight or Flight

Zakana lifted himself off the ground and rubbed his back. Immediately he thought the refrigerator handle had done permanent damage to his spine. But there was no time to pay attention to it. He grimaced, looked out at the two vast creatures. Snow slurries swirled around them in dusty whirlpools, created some sort of magical effect.

"Slowpoke!"

Zakana took cover behind the kitchen table, readjusted the bag on his shoulder, and removed the red Pokedex device again. He aimed it at Slowpoke and asked the voice inside the machine, "What kind of attacks does this thing have?"

"Slowpoke's attacks: confusion, water gun and tail whip." The voice paused, said, "Slowpoke is a water and psychic Pokémon, said to have mysterious powers when gathered in great numbers."

Zakana looked down at the device, shut it.

"Slowpoke!"

Zakana knew how it went. He was supposed to order an attack, and his Pokémon was supposed to obey. If he decided to attack, would things end up even worse for him? Was running the best option?

Before Zakana could order anything, Slowpoke made its own move. It lifted its head, shot a stream of water from its mouth, through the destroyed corner of the house, hit one of the snowy creatures in the face. The water nearly froze and dissipated before it even reached the thing, which, didn't seem to notice anything.

Zakana opened his Pokedex again, aimed it at the creatures moving toward him.

"Abomasnow," the voice inside the device matched the icy theme before them. "The abominable snowman Pokémon. Abomasnow roams the mountains during the winter and retires to caves when the weather becomes too warm. Wild Abomasnow have little interaction with humans and are prone to anger if they come across them. It is said Abomasnow are surrounded by a never-ending blizzard."

"Slowpoke!" Zakana shouted. "Let's get out of here!" Quicker than was natural, Zakana lifted his empty Pokeball, said, "return!"

Slowpoke disappeared inside the amorphous ball of white light, became one with the Pokeball again. The two Abomasnow stared onward, walked forward, the same red glare residing inside their eyes as though possessed demons. One of them cocked its piece of timber back, prepared to swing. Zakana sprinted back to the south wall, crouched into the corner.

"What do you want with me?"

The next slam came but this time Zakana was prepared. Pieces of wood, ice, and snow blasted against his body, hit him at all angles until he could no longer tell the difference about what pelted him. Shards of wood and ice nailed him in the face, his side. When he opened his eyes, he saw that the kitchen table lie in a billion pieces, and one of the Abomasnow had moved into the opening in the house.

Nothing could have prepared Zakana for this day. No amount of workouts or exercises would save him. Again, his mother's words rang inside his head, stung his heart. She would never leave him to die, but here he was, moments from having his body crushed into these snow creatures next meal. That was how dire the situation was. His mom told him what he needed to know, and left . . . because she needed to get to safety herself. She had to get to Yumin and her husband. Zakana's logic told him that much. Inside his legs and torso, he felt a surge of energy knowing that his mother trusted him enough to survive on his own, said, "Whoever sent you should know who they're dealing with!"

Zakana realized that the next wood hammer would leave him dead. There was no way to get to the stairs now as the Abomasnow moved closer. He would have to slip past it on the right side, and hope that whatever the other one was doing wouldn't kill him in the process. Something about his training kicked in, adrenaline rushed through him and he acted without another thought. Instead of swinging vertically this time, the Abomasnow swung horizontally.

Zakana hit the ground, slid underneath the passing swing, popped up. He found himself wedged between the two Abomasnow. The second one swung down at Zakana, who sidestepped, and burst out into the open air.

He thought he should run into town, get to more people, but there was way too much hail and windstorm in that general direction. Instead, Zakana peeled around and headed for the cliffs.

"This is bad." Zakana clicked open his Pokedex, asked, "when do the trains run in Pallet Town?"

There was a pause, and then the thing said, "How should I know? I'm a Pokedex, not a timetable."

"Well I thought you knew about this place!"

Zakana stopped suddenly at the precipice, peered into the ocean. "What do you know?"

"I can tell you anything about the world of Pokémon, their heights, weights, where they live, what they eat, what their abilities are, when they evolve, and anything else that should suit your fancy. I know all things under the great Groudon, Kyogre, and Rayquaza that dominate this universe."

"I don't know what you just said but all I heard was 'I know a whole bunch about things that don't matter but I still don't know the train schedule."'

"I answer questions about Pokémon. I have never stepped foot inside Pallet Town. What's your excuse?"

Zakana shut the Pokedex. "This thing has attitude. I don't remember my mom's Pokedex ever talking like that."

The snow brushed against Zakana's back, fell at his feet. The pain in his back rushed to him, reminded him of the creatures' true power. He could feel and hear the snowstorm encroaching on him, pulled his jacket tighter to his chin. How much longer did he have before the Abomasnow cornered him, before the storm pushed him off the cliff?

Without warning, Slowpoke emerged from its Pokeball, landed before Zakana.

"Slowpoke!" it said.

"Slowpoke! I didn't let you out! It will be faster if you stay inside your Pokeball."

Somewhere inside the snowstorm, Zakana felt the ground shake and knew that the two beasts were bounding toward him.

"Slowpoke, return!"

Slowpoke moved its rear leg quickly, avoided the beam of light that called it back.

"What do you think you're doing? Obey me!"

Slowpoke's pink coat gained a purple hue, glowed bright as it stared into the storm.

"What is it doing?"

"Confusion," the Pokedex said. "If effective, Slowpoke can confuse its opponents into doing things they might not normally do."

"Like enrage them further and make them want to kill people? Slowpoke, let's get moving!"

Zakana shot a look behind, and suddenly had no idea where they would go. He knelt down, scooped up his Slowpoke. It was like lifting a bale of hay, condensed into a slightly smaller salamander shaped thing, its body somewhat slick and cumbersome in the most awkward places.

The red colors emerged from the flurries, two sets of destructive eyes, yearning to eliminate Zakana from the world. One of the Abomasnow looked at Zakana cross-eyed, swung its tree trunk at him. Zakana crouched down, avoided it. The second one moved in, reared back, as a strange crystallized ice formed inside its mouth. There was a bright light, a surge of power, and something deathly cold. It clipped Zakana in the shoulder, spun him around more times than he could comprehend and sent him spiraling backward.  
He was weightless and at the same time, completely aware of how weighted he was as he fell. With one bear sized arm, Zakana held onto Slowpoke. With the other, he clutched at the cliff side in his descent. His gloves ripped on one of his holding places, he fell again. Five feet later, Zakana grabbed another spot, stopped, hung there, felt the pain sear through his shoulder, the block of ice that had formed around it, freezing his bag in place.

"Slowpoke! We're gonna fall! You should have returned to your Pokeball when I told you to!"

"Slow!" said the creature as it slipped its way out of Zakana's grasp and fell to the rocks below.

"Zakana couldn't look down. If he could just muster enough strength he could pull himself up. His strength training would be enough to get him up . . . if only he didn't feel like his shoulder would fall off . . .

Zakana felt gravity pull him down, down into his final resting place. If he could manage to avoid the rocks, and land in the water, he might be able to find a rock and cling to it until he could get to safety. Instead of plunging into the water, Zakana hit something hard and flat, and the ice encasing his shoulder shattered, fell in pieces around him. His head knocked back the furthest against the ice. Immediately he felt how cold it was, how unforgiving it was as his back took more damage.

He cried out. For a long time Zakana couldn't move. He stared up the cliff side, wondered how he ended up in this place. The Abomasnow were invisible through the increasing blizzard above, just a tired scene of icy blues and storm clouds. When his hands moved to his jacket pocket he fished out his Pokedex.

"What kind of attack was that?"

"Ice beam. Abomasnow is an ice and grass type Pokémon. Ice beam is one of the most powerful ice attacks and can sometimes freeze its opponents solid."

"Well that explains why I hit this giant bed of ice." Zakana rolled to his stomach, looked out. As far as he could see, there was only a thick sheet of ice covering the ocean. He couldn't see very far past the storm and figured that the ice beam hadn't frozen too much of the surrounding area. All that mattered was that it had saved his life. He hadn't fallen far from the rocks to this place on the ocean's surface, but his back still ached in pain. Zakana rose to his feet. He wished greatly to be on solid ground, to be in a hospital bed with a cup of hot chocolate. From where the ocean met the rocks, he saw a small cave-like opening. He dragged himself into it, collapsed onto the crusted, prehistoric space there. Slowpoke followed and curled up next to him.

"Are you okay?" Zakana couldn't help but ask. His lifelong vendetta against Pokémon had suddenly lessened at the sight of his weary and pathetic slowpoke, which, with every passing moment, desired to be closer to Zakana. It pressed tightly to the places that gave off the most heat. Slowpoke's skin was rubbery, something like that of dishwashing gloves, and Zakana noticed that in some places the skin was broken. No matter how much he hated Pokémon or said he did, he guessed that his own human decency was stronger at this very moment.

"Once that ice melts, we're out of luck. Any bright ideas?"

Somewhat against his will, Zakana clicked open his Pokedex knowing that it was the only thing among them that could talk back and offer real answers.

"I'm not in the mood for snarky comments so just tell me what I can do in this situation."

To Zakana's surprise, his Pokedex gave a straight answer. "I am sorry. I can only scan Pokémon in the surrounding area, or answer a specific question about a scanned Pokémon. I don't know your exact situation and am therefore unqualified to give such advice."

Zakana let the bad news wash over him like a debilitating winter flu, taking all the good pieces of him with it. He adjusted his position in his alcove, felt the pain in his spine and shoulder as he did. He wondered if he would need to go to the hospital for his injuries, because they didn't feel right. That was the least of his problems, however. If the snowmen Pokémon really wanted to follow him, they could. They could make their way down and finish Zakana off like they were clearly meant to do. Who had sent them? That rusty color behind their eyes was not a normal thing. And what was up with them attacking humans?

"What am I supposed to call you anyway? If we are going to spend some time together, I might as well call you something."

"I was programmed as Oodi, so you can call me that."

"Oodi? What kind of name is that? Is it because you have an attitude-ey?"

"That was a good joke. It's too bad your training ability can't match your high level of humor."

"Shut up about that! Who do you think you're talking to?" Zakana felt his face flush red, the anger welling up in his forehead. "You get pulled out of the attic and you think you can tell me how to live my life. You don't get to talk to me like that. You don't know what I've been through!" Zakana let the final syllable fly out of his mouth like he threw his first Pokeball, with a vengeance and anger he had never felt before. Here he was touching, holding and dealing with these Pokémon related things he had sworn never to meddle with, and now look what it was doing to him. The blood pumped inside his veins, ran an unfamiliar course through his body, warmed him underneath his winter jacket, gloves, and jeans.

"I've been working on controlling my anger, Oodi, and I don't need a dumb machine stirring it up again. It's been a long time since I've had those episodes."

"I meant my comment merely as a joke. That was how I was programmed, so please take no offense."

"Whatever."

Zakana's training ability was hardly relevant since he had held a Pokeball for less time than was humanly possible in the world of Kanto, where Pokémon was born—or so anyone in Kanto proudly said anytime it was or wasn't brought up.

"Then what could I have done differently, Oodi?"

Slowpoke nudged in closer, flipped Zakana's hand over its head. It seemed to want to be nearer to Zakana for this response.

"You could have tried to weaken them using Slowpoke and then capturing them with Pokeballs."

It had never occurred to Zakana to catch a Pokémon after his first one. He thought to himself, then said, "but that red glare behind their eyes. They were possessed or something. I don't want to catch something like that."

"If you are in danger, capturing Pokémon is an option in order to save yourself. You don't have to use the Pokémon just because you catch it. You can always release it later."

"You could have told me that at the time. You know I'm a little new to this."

"I'm not supposed to do anything unless you open me or ask me a question."

"Well next time, I give you permission to help me."

"You would have to rewrite me in order for that to take—"

"You sure do talk a lot."

"Slowpoke!"

"You could have used confusion against the Abomasnow," Oodi said. "They won't be affected much by water attacks but a psychic attack like confusion could have helped. Your slowpoke even tried to use it itself."

"I thought running was the better option," Zakana snapped. "You know I may be new to this world, but I do know that being stuck inside a machine isn't the same as actually being a part of it. There are things your algorithms and systems don't account for!"

"You are right, Zakana. There are many things my programs don't account for."

"Save it, Oodi. I'm done asking questions for now." He slammed the machine shut, half hoping he might break it in the process. "And I'm done defending myself to you."

When Zakana looked out, he realized everything had gone quiet, nothing but the winter winds howling against the rocks above him. The wintry wisps had disappeared and for a moment, Zakana thought the Abomasnow had given up their fight. Then there was a loud roar from both the beasts, and Zakana shook. He lifted Slowpoke's head off his hand, said, "sounds like they're angry about something. Do you think they're waiting for us?"

Zakana arched his back, cried out. He tried to stand, staggered. He stretched out, ducked his head so as not to bump it on the rocks forming the alcove he stood in. The glove on his right hand had ripped across the palm, leaving his skin bare, scraped like it had run across sandpaper. He latched onto the outer pat of the alcove, peered upward.

A flash of fire appeared above the cliff side, dissipated into the chilly air. Zakana heard a man's voice commanding a Pokémon above. There was an insatiable quality to it that Zakana recognized. A white blob stumbled backward to the edge of the cliff, and then in a single moment that seemed like it would last forever, the Pokémon wobbled there, then plummeted toward Zakana, toward the thinning ice.

"Slowpoke, get back!"

The weight and size of one of the snowmen Pokémon could crush Zakana and Slowpoke into Pokepowder.

Instead of crashing into the ice like Zakana imagined, there was a bit of commotion. Zakana looked out, saw the Abomasnow land on its massive, furry, white feet, as the block of ice made a definite crack. Icy, greenish-white vines retracted from the cliff side, seemingly what had broken its fall, returned to the Abomasnow's hands and wrists from where they had come, disappeared inside its endless fur coat.

Its green face and red eyes stared at Zakana with a single intention: it wanted him dead. Why, Zakana still had no idea, but he couldn't mistake the look. The Abomasnow had dropped the tree that it swung like a common household hammer, and bits of its white coat had turned black, where embers had singed them.

Zakana remembered the ice attack that his shoulder had taken, and knew he could never survive another one. Not from this close. This was his final resting place. Abominable snowman was seconds from freezing him into the next millennium and it was all because he didn't listen. It was all because he had chosen to remain blind. He could have taken one of his mother's more well trained Pokémon and demolished these snow creatures.

Everything became clear, flashed inside Zakana's head like a train about to leave its station. Things were far more serious than he could have imagined. Pokémon were attacking Pallet Town. More specifically, Pokémon were being sent to attack Zakana and his family.

"Confusion!" Zakana remembered the words from Oodi, hoped that Slowpoke could do enough to hold off the beast.

Slowpoke glowed purple, but nothing happening. Instead of becoming confused, the Abomasnow revealed finger-like-vines from somewhere inside its coat, moved to clutch Zakana's throat.

 _Snap._

The vines broke as some massive creature flew in and sliced them. It dove in a flash, a red and blue brute of a bird with a curved, yellow hook-like beak, and massively full wings, big enough to wrap a five-member family in its embrace. The eagle thing zipped away, doubled back, landed on the ice and squawked its name.

"Braviary!"

The Abomasnow turned on its heel, quicker than Zakana thought was possible, its red eyes flashing away, a new ferociousness inside them. It now focused on its new target—the thing that had snapped its vines in half. Abomasnow reared back, shot the same beam of ice at the bird. Its power made the ice underneath shake. All at same time, the ice crackled and popped. Braviary, unbothered, deflected the ice beam with a single wave of its wing like it was swatting away a pesky fly.

"ZAKANA!"

The voice belonged to someone Zakana knew, and as he looked up to where it came, everything clicked into place. The eagle Pokémon defending Zakana was Yumin's. Yumin, who had been supposedly kidnapped, was here now in Pallet, rescuing Zakana from certain death.

"Yumin! We gotta get out of here!"

"No shit, cous!" Yumin leaned over the ledge, shouted, "Braviary! Brave bird!"

The beam of ice that Zakana had seen from the Abomasnow was nothing compared to the flash of light and power that was Braviary. It was the added power of at least five ice beams all combined into one quick, incredible surge of bird. The attack nailed the Abomasnow, sent it crashing into the rocks, causing the ice at Zakana's feet to crack even more. He felt it thinning and separating beneath him and knew that he would be underwater in seconds. Something swift and powerful snatched the clothing behind Zakana's neck, lifted him off the cracking ice, and with two heavy flaps of its wings, Braviary was level with Yumin at the cliff side.

"Wait!" Zakana reached inside his pocket, fumbled with the Pokeball there.

The Braviary flapped as Yumin and an infant-monk looking Pokémon boarded the bird. "Braviary, out of here!"

"Yumin, wait!" Zakana repeated. He leaned over the cliff, saw Slowpoke at the bottom, its big white eyes bulging up at him. Clutching the Pokeball in his hand, Zakana stretched it out past Braviary's body. He nearly fell off too, but Yumin grabbed his free wrist.

"Slowpoke, return!" Zakana said.

A stream of red light shot from the Pokeball, connected with Slowpoke's body, enveloped it, and brought it sailing back, back to the ball from which it came.


End file.
